The Eyes of the Victim
by Moonlight Ashes
Summary: When Will Graham and Dr. Lechter are ordered to find a retired FBI Agent who is said to be able to help him, the boys may have gotten themselves into more than they bargained for. Lizzie Lane is not to be trifled with and she has a knack for exposing the deepest of secrets. Will she be able to help her rival turned partner or will she find herself at his side in Hannibal's game?


**Hey guys, I noticed I'm not the only one who was excited for a Hannibal television series, but I appear to be the only fan who hasn't written a fanfic about it! **

**Sadness!**

**Now, we all know my love of OC's, please enjoy her because she is my favorite! I present Elizabeth Aldridge Lane!**

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Lizzie Lane awoke to the sun shining in her face, her sheets sticking to her body from sweat, and a very annoying buzzing sound coming from her phone. She caught the troublesome device and brought it to her face a little too quickly.

"Ouch." She answered.

"…Agent Lane?" A shaky voice asked.

"That's former Agent, its Detective Lane now."

"Umm…t-this is FBI Headquarters…I have a message for…"

"FBI? Screw you guys." She moaned as she ruffled her bangs. "I'm done, retired, over the hill, out to pasture…"

"And now back on active duty." The smart alike on the other end stated.

"Excuse me?"

"By order of Agent Crawford."

"Tell Jack to screw off." She hung up angrily and rolled over to go back to sleep.

She sighed, just when she thought she might get away with her permanent leave, Jack Crawford came crawling back to her. She had been following the Chesapeake Ripper case via the media and old files she still had copies of, illegal but ignored copies, and knew that was the main case Crawford was working. She sighed as she decided to rise, knowing Crawford would send another agent if he needed to, or worse himself. Lizzie Lane was not your typical retired agent, for one she was barely twenty five having blown through the FBI academy to land a job as a profiler at only twenty, she had served in the Bureau for four years before throwing her hands up and taking leave for personal…and perhaps professional reasons depending on which psychiatrist she asked. The point was she was done with police work, tired of carrying a gun, and sick of the mountains of paperwork that came with firing the weapon that had saved her life many times. She was sick of chasing psychos and having nightmares later. The FBI and her were over, end of story. No pension, no retirement, do not pass go do not collect the Federal paycheck.

She had nearly convinced herself of that when she finished her shower. She dressed casual, as if she had any other look; in jeans, a blue blouse, flat heeled ankle high boots, and a slimming but extremely comfortable leather blazer she lifted off a biker chick that managed to piss her off one night. She threw her long brown wavy curls up into a hair tie, securing it in a flaring bun as she told herself she needed a haircut for the fourth time that week, and suddenly stopped when she caught her own eyes in her reflection. Usually a reflection doesn't catch its owners eyes, reflections are dead with no life to catch ones gaze, especially the owners. Yet, there was something very much alive stirring behind her eyes. She felt jumpy, ever since she heard the FBI mentioned that morning her body had been rewired and ready to go. She stared down at her apparel, taking in the signs…she wanted to get out of the house, she wanted to curb stomp her boss at the station she worked at, and she wanted to feel the weight of her gun on her hip once more. With a shiver as she glanced up and caught a glimpse of the beast within her eyes, she shrugged off her jacket and tossed off her shoes. She wasn't going back…not after the last time.

"Why do you insist on talking out loud?" Will asked his partner, his voice dropping in annoyance.

"Conversation requires speaking out loud. It is the way we exchange information." Dr. Lechter almost smirked, knowing Will was in one of his high strung moods again, the kind only Jack Crawford could put him in. "Strange how as soon as I mentioned the agents name you cringed."

"I stare at dead bodies all day, Doctor. I don't cringe." Will stated as he pulled the car to a stop in front of the address the men had been given.

"Yet you did at the sound of this woman's name."

"Yeah, well…who would name their kid Lizzie?"

"I assume it is short for Elizabeth."

"You'd be right." Will flew with the change in subject. "Elizabeth Aldridge Lane, retired FBI profiler."

"Retired?"

"Yeah, Jack wants her to go with us to interview Lucas Barrington. Apparently she is supposed to be useful."

"You doubt her use?"

"We work opposite angles." Will explained as he stepped onto the wooden porch and rang the bell.

"Interesting choice of words." A young girl answered the door, but did not invite the men in. "Mr. Graham."

The girl before them, Lizzie Lane, stood perhaps five foot exactly. Her long brown hair pulled up flimsily, her eyes a sparking steel blue that clashed with her hair but was intensified by the sweet heart cut blue blouse. She had the curves of an athlete, but obviously didn't care for her shape as her thighs were full and her shoulders slouched as she leaned on the doorframe to further block their entrance to her home. Her face was genuinely irked and Dr. Lechter couldn't help but feel the blade of her irritation aimed at Will who shuffled uncomfortably. It was interesting to see the two profilers side by side, whereas Will was shy with a touchy temper, Lizzie was laid back and didn't hide anything about how she felt about the two men knocking on her door.

"Detective Lane." Will nodded. "My colleague, Dr. Hannibal Lechter."

"The shrink." She admonished, not taking the hand he offered. "I've read some of you work, not bad."

"Thank you, Miss Lane."

"Lizzie." She corrected and turned her eyes back to Will. "If you're here to collect me I'll have you know I'm not going with you. I don't care what Jack thinks, I'm done."

"He knows. I know." Will struggled a bit under her pensive gaze. "I'm not here to convince you, I'm here to ask for your help."

"Better make it good Will, my coffee's almost done."

"We came across some new evidence in the Ripper case…I need all the insight I can get."

"No." She turned a coy smile on him. "Not you, Will Graham."

"I…need your help." He struggled. She cupped her ear.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Damn it, Lizzie, I don't have time for your childish antics."

"Then you better make time to grovel at my feet and beg." She stated, acting as if she were going to close the door. "Cause I don't work with assholes."

"Fine! Help me!" He yelled. She smiled and opened the door a little wider.

"I'm sorry that sounded a bit demanding, let's try a little nicer shall we?"

She could see Will's infamous temper rising. He hated socializing, he hated talking to her, and most of all he hated her. However, this was how she operated. He had to know she wasn't going to be walked on and he wasn't going to get away with sitting in the corner like an Emo kid at a school dance. She knew she was the only one who could wind him up like this, to the point once he even hit a tree and she was kind enough to pull the splinters out, she pressed his buttons and jerked him around until he cooperated with her in a sense that she could actually talk to him without feeling like he was only catching part of the broadcast. She saw him clench his fists as he took a deep breath through his nose.

"Please, Lizzie, I would greatly appreciate your help on this case."

"Go back to the needing help part."

"I really need your help."

"Now tell me about my excellent profiling skills and don't leave out my cute shoes."

"Lizzie…" He warned her, but she only giggled as she opened the door and let the men pass into her living room.

"You'll have to forgive us doctor." Lizzie apologized as she took the strangers coat. "Will and I go way back." She smiled when she offered to take Will's coat only for him to clutch it closer and shake his head. "All the way back to…where was it we met, Will?"

"Donovan case…three years ago." He stated, standing off in a corner of the room as she offered a seat to the doctor and took one across from him to face Will in his tense pacing.

"Ah yes, you wore maroon, I wore emerald and our love was born." She teased. Will stared at the floor, obviously uncomfortable. "Will here is the yin to my yang. We do everything the opposite. From computer brands to movies and more…" She stared at him thoughtfully. "You think we'll ever agree with anything, Will?"

"On a cold day in Hell." He stated. She smiled.

"I missed that biting mirth." She turned to the doctor. "So, Dr. Lechter…"

"Hannibal." He smiled and she thought she caught a faint secret pass his eyes, but it was snuffed out by his charm.

"Sir," She preferred to keep to pleasantries. "May I ask why a renowned psychiatrist is working with the FBI?" There was silence from both parties as she caught the meaning and she tsked Will. "Oh, Will, didn't I teach you anything?" She smirked. "You're not supposed to let them know you're crazy."

"I'll keep that in mind next time."

"Oh, I don't like the sound of that at all, sir." She turned to Hannibal. "Better make a note, Doctor, I think Will has missed his nap." she smirked when she saw the profiler stew in his seat. "Now now, Will, no catching my chair on fire."

"What do you know about Lucas Barrington?"

"Lucas?" Lizzie stared a moment. "Why do you ask about Lucas?"

"His name has come up in our investigation. I think he knows who the ripper is."

"If he does he's unaware of it." Lizzie stated. "Lucas isn't a secret-keeper. He can't even lie properly."

"Or he's a skilled liar and he's gotten past you." Will argued. It was Lizzie's turn to fake a smile. "Losing your touch, Elizabeth?" He asked, using her full name, knowing she hated it. sHe paused only a moment before she began.

"I can see that you haven't been sleeping well, Will. You have bad dreams, a bit of sleep walking too, yes?" He twitched so she continued. "You have recently been rejected by a co-worker, one you deem worthy enough to catch your attention, but she won't entertain your feelings because she's secretly afraid you'll crack and leave her in a compromising situation." Lizzie went on, ignoring the interested stare of the shrink. "You find yourself talking to yourself more than usual, you are beginning to hallucinate, and you secretly hope Jack will see you're losing your mind so you can stop looking for killers."

"Stay out of my head." Will growled.

"Please, Will. I haven't even begun to psycho analyze you. Everything I've told you I could see the moment I opened my door."

"Interesting observations, Miss Lane." Hannibal stated, his eyes baring into her as she and Will had their glaring contest. "May I ask what grounds your assumptions are on?"

"Observation, Doctor." Will answered. "Lizzie has this annoying Sherlock complex where she can look at you and instantly know everything about you." Hannibal's attention peeked at this.

"Then please, would you mind a demonstration?" He asked. She flickered her eyes to him and Will reeled his head towards the man.

"No you really don't want that, Doc. Liz here is…"

"I insist." He stated. Lizzie smirked as she stared at the man and paused only a moment.

"You're an interesting man, Dr. Lechter." She stated. "You're a lover of the arts, with a secret admiration for the brutality of reality. You're a cook, I see. All…organic….ingredients." She let out a small smirk. "You have a troubled past though, I suspect the loss of a family member took its toll on you and has painted your life with that one devastating occurrence. You are intrigued by Will and his…interesting profiling skills, but you also want to help him overcome his fears. You , sir, I wouldn't mind analyzing, though I'm not sure I'd enjoy what I found." She finished, and the Doctor was intrigued to say the least.

"Organic ingredients?"

"You have a flawless complexion, healthy lips, hair, and your trim as a fiddle. Good food makes good health, Doctor." She smiled. "I can see you cook yourself from the burns patterns on your fingertips as well as the way you hold your hand when it is at rest, as if you were holding a frying pan over a fire. You dress well, you're professionally groomed not just for your work, but in private as well, I'd say."

"…and how would you know of my troubled past?"

"Scars." sHe stated. "Your neck, and right behind your ear. Signs of a troubling childhood as the marks are old. Not to mention my instinctual analysis of your eyes."

"…my eyes?" Hannibal was confused at this statement. Will was rolling his eyes now.

"There is a sadness in your eyes, it flickers here and there, but over all there is an overbearing sense of dread about you, as if you have overcome a great sense of misery, but have been forever changed by it." She answered staring into his eyes. Will coughed.

"Poetic as ever, Lizzie." He scowled. "But you can't just look someone in the eyes and know them."

"Have you ever noticed murderers, once they've been caught, they do not blink?" Lizzie asked, now turning to Will. "They stare off into the abyss as if to say their soul is as dark as their eyes. Some say it is only for shock factor, but I tend to believe that criminals, especially ones who commit heinous crimes do not blink simply because they are afraid of falling asleep…which just might justify your problems sleeping."

"Are you trying to accuse me of something?" Will lifted an eyebrow.

"I'm trying to compliment you." She smirked. "You're a talented profiler, Mr. Graham, but you obviously need my help." She smiled as she stood a triumphant smile on her face. "Now, shall we begin, Gentlemen?"

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**Alrighty, what do you think?  
**

**Not good?**

**Please let me know!**

**Thank you all!**

**~Ash**


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